Silver Glitter
by Serendipity545
Summary: Did she think that this was utterly stupid? Hell yes, and she was doing it anyway. How much could glitter hurt? Maia centric, pre CoA/CoB.


Alright, this one shot just randomly came to me. Even though I haven't written any fanfiction for nearly a year for the Mortal Instruments, I've never fallen out of love with CoB and CoA.

This is dedicated to** tura35**, who kindly let me know that the Mortal Instruments finally earned its own little niche in the world wide web.

FYI: This story is describing Maia's initiation into the werewolf pack, so this story is pre-CoA. And my copy of the books....are missing. So if anyone could tell me the correct name of the bar, I'd be really grateful. Enjoy!

**Added: Thanks to my reviewer for giving me the bar name! **

**Disclaimer**: I simply play in Cassandra Clare's world. I only happen to own the plot of this one story. :)

* * *

Freaky Pete set the mug down in front of her with a resounding _thunk_.

"Get ready to drink up, pup. Let's see what you got," he cackled, and the rest of the pack joined in, howls, laughter, and sounds in between the two filled up the Hunter's Moon.

Maia narrowed her eyes to small slits and bared her new sharp teeth, "Only you idiot boys would think that this," she waved her hand towards the glass, "would prove anything."

The cacophony died down as everyone watched Freaky Pete with rapt attention as he held a salt shaker over the beer mug and upended it. Tiny particles almost floated down into the mug.

The bar's neon light illuminated the room and caught the particles on their journey downward. The flecks of silver casted refracting patterns on the walls, entrancing all in the bar.

"Gimme the damn drink," she ground out, impatient with the wolves' theatrics regarding _glitter_.

A small, secret smile graced Pete's features as he slid the drink towards her. "There's one half gram of silver in that eight ounce glass. Drink slowly."

Rolling her eyes, Maia quickly downed the whole cup, her throat burning.

Stupid idiots, she thought as she tried not to gasp and slid the mug back to Bat. Once again, Maia wondered why she was even doing this.

_Ah, come on now_, that annoying thing she called her conscience, _you need a family, and this is the way to get one._

It was true; the trial of the Silver Liquid was the signature of this pack. For new members, by willingly ingesting silver, one proved that you would take any physical pain for your new brothers. To not go through the ritual was to be kicked out of the pack.

Even Luke, their new pack leader, had swilled the nasty stuff. While he didn't necessarily need to as he won the position of pack leader, by passing he insured that he wouldn't be killed in his sleep so a 'better' or 'more trustworthy' leader could be appointed.

Did Maia disagree with this practice?

_Yes._

Did she think it was utterly stupid?

Hell yes, and here she was, doing it anyway. After all, how much can glitter hurt?

Pete poured some more alcohol and glitter into the mug, and stirred it well. "One gram in eight ounces. How's your throat feeling, pup?"

Maia snarled at him and deftly swiped the drink back again. This time she took smaller gulps.

Oh holy hell, that _hurt_. The stuff was burning away at her goddamn throat.

She couldn't help it, she started coughing, betraying her pain.

The wolves howled again, slapping each other on the back, "-amn, knew she couldn't last more than a gram. Pay up."

"Wait," she croaked out between fits, "Another half gram, Pete. Now."

"Your funeral, pup." The salt shaker was upended again and more of the dreaded glitter fluttered down into her drink.

Maia's body was on fire as the first full gram spread through her veins. Silver isn't like a burn, something that causes intense pain and then subsides. It tortures your insides, stabbing and poking at your organs until it finally tears you to shreds and then moves on to go and repeat the process.

Silver is sadistic, and unrelenting. It's chocolate brown eyes, so sweet looking- Maia shook her head. This isn't about Daniel. This has nothing to do with Daniel. Daniel was dead, buried in the ground now, and he can't hurt her anymore. He might have torn her psyche, but he was gone now.

And she'd be damned if she let some silver sparkles obliterate whatever Daniel left her with.

Through the pain, it struck Maia as funny that this silver glitter is basically the antithesis of pixie dust.

When Maia was younger, she was in love with Peter Pan, and most especially, Tinkerbell. Whenever Daniel would grow bored of torturing her, she'd retreat to her room and grab the colorful Disney book and read about the Darling children's wonder at discovering Peter. Her fingers would shake from the aftereffects of Daniel's 'playtime', much like they were now, over the instructions the magical, flying boy gave the children. The secret to flying away from this horrible world was faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust. Maia would fall asleep every night, praying that the boy would come and rescue her as he had the Darlings.

The years worn on however, and Daniel became even more barbarous, and Maia lost touch with the girl who could believe in fairies.

Daniel took away her ability to trust, and her ability to have faith, but he couldn't destroy her hope that something magical would come along and give her that pinch of pixie dust so she can fly away from him, forever.

Then she was granted passage into the world of magic, in the most horrible, brutish form of the word. She lost her body, and grew fur and walked on four legs. She had killed people, and she had seen things that _shouldn't_ _exist_. She had wondered if Daniel had finally, from the grave, had made her lose her mind.

But she had been found by Pete in an alley after her third full moon, and taken into the pack. She tried to imagine being packless after these last two weeks surrounded by people who actually cared. So this led her right back to the present moment, with the mug in front of her, knowing that she needed to drink the swirling silver sparkles that glimmered evilly inside.

Everything was resting on her swallowing that, so Maia forced her body to stop screaming in pain and pick up the mug.

Her arm was burning, but she grabbed the mug and shakily lifted it up to her lips as she delicately sipped it, letting out a hiss each time the damn glitter hit her tongue. But she finished the glass and croaked out, "More."

But Pete took away the glass and tossed it into the sink, with all of the other dirty dishes that had accumulated. "That's good enough, Maia. You've passed," he told her quietly.

"Give me more, Pete."

"Go get it yourself if you want it that badly. I won't stop you."

So Maia gave him a rude gesture and forced her arms-_oh god, the pain-_ to shove herself off of the table.

She took one step forward-_she can't feel anything, can't see anything other than the silver swirling in front of her_- and she fell.

Two arms caught her, and the scent of her pack leader lingered in her memory until she followed the swirling patterns into oblivion. "You did well, kid."

Maia spent the next fortnight in Freaky Pete's bedroom, a tiny little office behind the bar. She dreamt of David and Peter Pan when the silver let her sleep. When the glitter sparkled in her blood too harshly, she awoke and cried until she thought she was leaking silver tears.

Finally, one morning Maia found that she could get out of bed. Her body felt shaky and new and a little unstable. She sojourned to the bar, and was warmly greeted by the few lone wolves who populated it. Word leaked out to the rest of the pack that the newest member was back on her feet, and soon the entire pack filled the dingy little bar.

Toasts were made to their leader and to their new member, games were played, arguments broke out, and several became amusingly drunk. As Maia rested on a bar stool, she reflected on her actions.

Was the ritual still stupid, after experiencing it? Her answer was still yes. What kind of idiot, other than her idiots of course, thought that drinking a personal poison was smart?

But in the end, she's finally flown away from her old life, away from Daniel, and she finally felt safe.

And it had only taken a pinch of her own pixie dust.

* * *

Alright, so, once again, the perfect ending line has eluded me, but I think this piece overall is much better than my first fic.

Since you've read all the way to the bottom, how 'bout you review too? Thanks, Serendipity545


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